Karma
by ChronicallyinFlaming
Summary: Written for dragonkink meme. 18, bored of all the other cute guys being killed or not lasting with her, decides to try that guy sword who's always trying to stop her fun. Whether he likes it or not. Dark fic. F. Trunks/18


**The Prompt: 18/Future Trunks**

**18, bored of all the other cute guys being killed or not lasting with her, decides to fuck that guy with the sword who's always trying to stop her fun. Whether he likes it or not.**  
><strong>Femdom, nondub con, go about it however you will.**

The fill:

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><p>His face looked confused for a second. The brows furrowing over the most perfect blue eyes she had seen in awhile. Then Juuhachigou watched as his head went backwards like he was suddenly looking up. Except for the perfect round red hole in his forehead, his rolling mouth, he could have been watching the clouds.<p>

"Got him."

"_Juunanagou_!" Her eyes were still focused on the boy. Blood was running down his dimpled chin.

"What?" Her brother called, sounding as though she interrupted him from looting another gun store.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

Juunanagou was sitting atop a wrecked building, legs swinging to tap the heels of his sneakers against the concrete. "What?"

All innocence. "He annoyed me."

This always happened.

Her eyes would stay on one human for too long, and Juunanagou would kill him. To be fair to be her brother, he did it in different ways besides a single shot to the head, or setting them afire or blowing them up. And quickly, mercifully, whatever. But did he have to murder the cute ones? Why couldn't she ever get a decent-looking guy for just an hour or two?

Even when those pathetic heroes were still buzzing around to try to stop them, Juunanagou had done his best of playing the role of the protective brother. When he'd finally had enough of her flirting with the small nervous cute one, and killed him, Juuhachigou had retaliated by burning all of his handkerchiefs. Ironically, that was more than what any of the shrimp's friends had been able to do to seek revenge.

But when she did finally meet a boy that didn't know who she was, and talked him into bed (which wasn't a huge accomplishment, because of both her looks and that weird human instinct to screw in times of crisis and mourning), he never lasted long. In any sense.

Her 'romantic' entanglement could be summed up with an image of what had happened last week: some fumbling boy ruining her skirt, "Oh, I'm sorry, jeez." All flustered and ashamed while she looked at him pitilessly. Killing him had been easier than pulling her tights back on and opening the door of his shiny sports car.

Or they expected something more, or wanted more than a simple roll in the hay. Not that she was against a nice dinner. But being 'wooed' by some idiot was an indignity she would not take. Sleeping with humans could be fun, but not being forced to date them and nod at their stupid conversations.

Pathetic that the only man who was good enough to stick around was her brother. Just because she was no longer human, didn't mean she wasn't a woman.

The answer came in the form of a dweeb waving around a useless sword.

He had just reached the age where he could hold that ridiculous thing without it being half his size. But no ridiculous purple hair sprouted from his cheeks and chin. Either from his no-doubt stressful life or genetics (she could hardly bring herself to flip through the old files for his father) his face was becoming leaner and harder. Healthier than most of the people anymore. Stronger too.

Without his 'big brother' he was effectively lost. He didn't even last as long as the other half-Saiyan did in fights. Once, Juunanagou had shoved him into a clothing store Juuhachigou was at, (scaring everyone away she might add) and beaten him until unconsciousness; then dressed him up in woman's clothes. They had even thrown pennies at the boy and told him to dance, sending him into a blistering rage that last three minutes and two seconds until Juuhachigou finally slapped him into a wall.

Bringing up Gohan was also another way to send him into a useless flurry. "I'll kill you," he'd scream, swinging around an easily avoided fist or blade. Then one of them would drive a foot into his jacketed back and send him flying away. Like a bug. A bug with floppy purple hair and annoying blue eyes.

_Nice _annoying blue eyes though. He could at least follow her briefly in a fight. Hell, at least he fought back. Literally no one else on the planet even tried anymore besides occasionally firing a shot at her or Juunanagou. He was kind of cute too, in that short jacket and baggy pants. With blonde hair and teal eyes, fury written in the quivering lips and bloodless cheeks, the boy looked even better.

He was the closest thing to an equal on this planet. A bullet to the head couldn't take him down. Before they finally finished him off, he could run around like a headless chicken for quite a while; so, endurance.

Good signs.

For the first time, Juuhachigou looked at him with interest. With new eyes she saw him as something more than an enemy.

Would she have to kiss him? Would she be able to withstand his whining, puling screams? If not, could she find a gag? She wondered if his pubic hair was a darker purple than the hair on his head.

Better than nothing, was the general verdict.

The brat had no poker face whatsoever.

When she cornered him, smirking, he immediately freaked out. His bright eyes darted around, looking for Juunanagou. Then his face went that determined expression that his father and friends had all worn before being beaten by her and her twin.

"Android!"

He had the old, same tired lines. Perhaps he thought he had a better chance of survival with just her. Personally, she had her doubts on him seeing more than maybe an hour or two into the future.

"For Gohan. For my father, for his friends—"

Wait, did he think that Vegeta had been _friends_ with the other fighters? Jeez. Where had he gotten _his _information?

"You heartless machine!"

Totally original line. Not even an accurate one either. But what could you expect from those Saiyan animals? Distantly, she wondered if that store in West City still was offering those retro style boots.

"I'm going to destroy you for all the people you hurt-"

Would they have moved them into the back?

"-Make sure you suffer a _hundred-fold_-"

She really liked those boots. With the cute buckle. Did they have them in black, anyway?

He flew at her. Juuhachigou's mind was still on wondering where she could find a matching belt and hardly noticed him.

Easily, she kicked him above the knees, careful to avoid anything important. The half-Saiyan's attack was immediately faltered. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened so that she could see the whites all around his irises. Tears lightened the blue of his eyes. Juuhachigou floated above him, analyzing the width of his square shoulders, the long lean arms and legs, while he fought back screams and clutched his leg.

Maybe she should have gone a little lighter on that kick? Oh well. At least now he was immobilized.

"Hi," she said sweetly.

The brat looked up, sweat dripping down his forehead. His hand was wrapped around his thigh, the other raised in defense.

She had…thought this would be more interesting. A longer fight that maybe involved scratching and pleading of some kind before she took him. Instead he was down in five seconds, and now Juuhachigou had her doubts. Would he even be able to focus with a shattered or at least fractured bone?

Fuck.

This was the best Earth had to offer?

"Android," he hissed. "Just finish me off then."

"Hm?" She tilted her head. Whatever do you mean?

"I'm sick of being your plaything to bat about. If you're going to kill me, just do it."

"Well, I don't know what gave you the idea that you had a say in this matter. If I want to torture you, I will."

His head dropped to his chin, one hand still touching his leg. The purple hair was beginning to plaster itself to his forehead with sweat. Veins bulged in his forehead, like the ghost of Vegeta leaving a calling card to remind her that this was his son. _That_ she could recall from her own memory.

Juuhachigou waited.

The Saiyan Prince would be rolling around in his shallow roadside grave if he knew what his enemy was planning on doing to his heir.

She smiled, and waited some more.

Eventually, the boy tried to crawl away without her noticing.

If he could drag himself, then he was in good enough shape for what she wanted. Maybe not all of it, but something.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I thought," he gasped. "That you were in stand-by mode."

She didn't really need his foot, either of them, so drove the tip of her own boot into the heel of one of shoes. His scream seemed to echo through the empty town that still sent waves of smoke into the sky.

"I might let you live, you know."

The eyes shifted onto hers. "What?"

"If you do something for me."

He swallowed, thickly, confused. "What?"

"Oh not much," she allowed, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. The blonde woman pulled herself up to sit on a smallish piece of fallen concrete, then crossed her legs slowly. Her tights made a rasping noise when they rubbed against each other.

The little bastard barely seemed to notice. His eyes were trained on her hands, shoulders, face. He didn't even seem to be looking at her breasts. What if he didn't like girls, and would have preferred her brother here? She would kill him for that if it was true.

Juuhachigou beckoned to him with her finger. "Come here."

"No thanks."

A glowing, growing ball of ki in her palm sent light over the ruined street. Not that she didn't mind a little rebellion, but there was a time and place for it. "_Come. Here."_

"Why?" His drawn face was defiant. "So you can hurt me more?"

"I have no plans on hurting you more," Juuhachigou said smoothly, not sure if she was even lying. It all depended on him. He was a pretty thing in pain, but too much blood could make anyone look tacky. She hid a smirk, uncrossing her legs and spreading them just a little in a promise.

Son of a bitch wasn't even looking downward let alone with drugged lust that told her she would get exactly what she wanted. "I don't believe you. Why wouldn't you want to hurt me?"

"I have something more interesting in mind. Lick me."

He pushed himself backwards; scraping his palms on the cement she was sure. The blue innocent gaze now glanced briefly at her legs. Finally. "What?"

"Are you deaf?"

His drawn breath, shuddering, made her shiver. "No."

The word hung heavy in the air. One of his legs was straight out, the other curled inward. When she leaned forward, they seemed to tremble.

"I told you, I don't care anymore if you kill me."

"Do you care about not being in pain?"

He cringed. "I won't do that. I won't."

Another ball of ki sent blue light dancing over the ruined buildings and burnt shells of cars. "On your knees."

"I can't. I can't."

Juuhachigou wasn't sure if he was talking about his hurt legs, or injured principals. Either way, she cared little. "Drag yourself."

His voice shook. "I won't."

"You will," she promised. "Unless you want what happened here to happen again, somewhere else."

"You'll do that _anyway_."

"Maybe. But next time I might let a few humans slip away."

White teeth were bared. "I don't believe you."

"Are you willing to not even try? I am a woman of my word." The blonde cyborg leaned back. "Convince me this pathetic planet and the insects living on it should live.

"Come here, Trunks."

The sound of his name made him shiver. "I won't."

"If you don't, I'll definitely kill any humans that come my way. Maybe you could actually help someone now. You want to die, anyway. What's pride?"

Pale blue were met with a flickering darker blue. "Besides that thing that got your father killed."

"I'll kill _you_!" The purple-haired boy promised.

Juuhachigou laughed. "Come here."

He dragged himself to her.

"What do you want from me?" His growl reminded her of his father. Awkwardly perched on his shaking knees, he swayed slightly.

So she kissed him, to shut him up, to frighten him. He flinched, eyes closing and moved his face away. "I had always heard that whores didn't kiss. I guess it's true."

That growl again. "I'm not your whore."

His mouth was warm and dry and closed. Boyish and disappointing. Hopefully the rest of this wouldn't be like that. At least the other guys had been eager for her kisses.

Both of his hands went to either side of her to support himself against the piece of concrete the cyborg sat on. She grabbed them and pulled them to her hips. He winced, as though her denim skirt burned him. At his height of her waist, on his knees, she realized that in a few years he would still never be much taller than them from his father's diminutive size.

She led his shaking hands under her skirt, showing the shaky fingers where the fabric of her black tights ended. His breathing rasped in her ears, the loudest thing in this dead town. Then it was the sound of her leggings being pulled down.

"If you rip them," she whispered, "I'll rip you."

He was obedient as a robot.

"Have you been with a girl before?"

He shook his head, for one brief second, things were bizarrely normal. They could have been some couple that she and Juunanagou liked to hunt out and kill, out in a car or secluded area and trying to get past second base. The necking teens would look so guilty, then scared when Juunanagou pulled out a gun. "Ah, young love," he would say over their screams and pleading, then romanticized about sex and long walks in the park over the sound of death rattles and gunfire.

"I guess I'll show you then. Aren't you _lucky_?"

The boy shuddered.

"You don't think so?"

Her fingers went to lock in his hair, pulling at it almost painfully. "Oh no, no crying here. Sobbing doesn't help me get off. I'm not my brother."

She shoved him down, pushing his face almost under her slightly uplifted skirt. "Lick. Slowly."

His mouth and tongue were shy things. Juuhachigou had to force his head where she wanted him to go. The kisses and licks, clumsy though they were, did make her wetter. She took a hand and who him how and where to slide a finger. Then another.

"Not bad," the blonde woman informed the shifting head in her lap, bringing her hips up. There was a collection of sparks growing in her stomach.

She could feel moisture on her legs from him. His sad little sniff as he held back sobs made her roll her eyes. As though he was being forced to cut off his own finger, or hold in his own guts, or feel his date's blood and brains drying on his skin while Juunanagou questioned him about their latest outing. "Would you say this is better or worse than if he'd made you go Dutch?"

Fingers spread, of their own will, and the realization of that caused more pleasure more than the sensation. "Hurry up, you little fucker."

Only after a protesting whine filled the air did she realize that she was grinding his face into her. A spark seemed to leave her stomach and spread to her back, which arched. Her orgasm left her smug and warm, and she nearly kicked him off out of habit. But there was more fun to be had. Hell, this already was better than most of the men she picked up.

She reached between his legs when he tried to stand up. He was as stiff as that sad little steel sword he swung around. "Cute."

His black-and-yellow belt came undone easily. She stroked him through the baggy pants, listening to his gasps. That whimper when she gripped him. "Okay, final test, hero."

"No more. Please." He looked up at her, hair hanging unevenly into his eyes. The face was pleading, mouth and chin damp.

"Oh, but that wouldn't be fair now, wouldn't it? You, being so kind to me…How could I not return the favor?"

Bravely, he put his hand on hers. "No, Juuhachigou. Stop. I held up me end of the deal."

That leg was wavered, then the other one did. She grabbed him, pulling him close to her. His crooked sounding scream came from having to put all his weight on the hurt limbs, she understood. Not broken maybe, but possibly fractured or at least heavily, heavily bruised. The erection in her hands was still hard, as though afraid of becoming soft.

Juuhachigou kicked him again, more gently than before. She learned from mistakes after all. The boy tumbled over, to land on his back with a groan. "You're not going anywhere. You _can't_."

She floated down, pushing hair out of her eyes. Sitting on him brought another moan of pain, and she shifted until he silenced.

"Stop."

"No."

Sweat ran down his face. "Please."

"Make me."

A dry sob seemed to run through him, and when she kissed him his mouth tasted exotically of her. She licked his chin, hand going downward to stroke him to full hardness again. No, no, no, he kept saying over and over again. No, no no no.

She bit his neck, the blood salty and metallic. He didn't shriek, only whimpered, another sign that she'd chosen well. Most guys tended to freak out and bleed everywhere, panicking and no longer being of use. Against her fingers, he was still stiff and hot.

Then he shuddered, oh god no, no, and there was a dampness staining his pants. His eyes squeezed shut, his back shaking.

Juuhachigou had to laugh.

If she believed in karma, this would explain a lot.

Tears and sweat dampened the pale skin. He kept those blue eyes shut, waiting death and freedom. She kissed him again, tasting salt. Then she rolled over and caused him to cry out again in pain while she dressed. Juuhachigou cursing loudly when she discovered a rip in her tights.

"Fuckhead," she informed whoever was around. She almost felt awkward. So she waved at his red face, him crouched in pain and self-loathing. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."


End file.
